Back to Afghan (via Bath)
by Daniel Darcy
Summary: Its the day after the investiture at the palace. Molly's off to Brize Norton to fly back to Afghan, but detouring for a four day break in Bath. Only downside, it means meeting the James family for the first time, and Rebecca! How will they all get on?
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer - All recognisable characters created by Tony Grounds and are owned by the BBC._**

**Please note that this the sequel to Just doing my job. It takes place the day after. If you haven't read that, it might be worth doing so before reading this.**

**Back to Afghan (via Bath)**

**Part 1**

**Paddington 1.52pm**

The investiture was now twenty four hours ago, and, with hardly any time to think or relax, Molly Dawes had had to start getting ready for her second tour in Afghanistan. She wasn't flying out until the following Monday but Charles had suggested she travel to Bath today, stay with him for four nights then go straight to Brize. She'd had a frantic morning, packing and shopping to get the things she'd need for the next three months. Still, she'd done it in good time and reckoned she'd be able to get the stuff she'd forgotten in Bath.

Molly grabbed a seat half way down the train and was now waiting for it to pull out of the station and head to Bath via Swindon. She was in civvies, a pretty pale green floral dress just bought from Monsoon and a winter coat, which she had put on the seat beside her. Her concession to practicality had been to wear trainers as she reckoned heels and four items of heavy luggage were not a good combination. The heels were safely packed in one of the bags in anticipation of an evening or two out in Bath.

Getting to Paddington with all that luggage was not going to be easy. Just as well she'd given up the idea of struggling with it on the tube (at Charles's insistence). The taxi had arrived at twelve and, after tearful farewells and hugs from the family, it had taken her all the way to Paddington with loads of time to spare. It cost the best part of £25 but she reckoned it was worth every penny. Even getting the stuff from the taxi rank to the train had been tough. The only trolley left had a wonky wheel and kept going off in arbitrary directions. But after visiting W H Smith for a newspaper and a book, she had eventually made it to the right platform. She'd found a window seat with a table, not too far from the luggage racks so she could keep an eye on all her kit.

Staring out of the window, her thoughts went back yet again to the investiture at the Palace the day before. It all seemed like a dream, like it never happened at all. Did she really chat to the future king for almost five minutes giving him advice on the Afghanistan situation? But here on the table in front of her was proof if she needed it. In today's Times, page 17, was a side view of her shaking hands with Prince Charles, complete with Military Cross on her tunic. She gazed at the picture and relived the moment yet again. "It's been a privilege to meet you," he had said to her at that very moment, now frozen in time by the official Palace photographer.

How her life had changed these last two years. Unbelievable really!_ That person who dressed like a tart and worked part-time in a nail bar. Was that really me?_ _God, what was I thinking; those clothes, those skirts, that hair, that make-up._

The teenage Molly, if she could time travel forward a few years, would not recognise, as herself, the beautifully dressed, self-assured young woman sitting in the train reading a newspaper. The looks she now got from the men who passed by were looks of genuine admiration, the sort that men reserve for beautiful women who are out of their league. Two or three years ago, she'd have got very different looks.

Charles had summed it all up at the Mountain Checkpoint so long ago. "It's all luck and chance" he'd said. If she hadn't tried for the Army that day after her eighteenth birthday binge she'd probably still be with that tosser Artan and still look and dress the way she did (if she wasn't pregnant already). If the original Section 2 medic hadn't been injured then she'd have been posted to another Section and she wouldn't have met Charles (or been to the Palace). And so on. Luck, fate and chance, at every turn of your life.

The feelings she now had towards Charles were a completely new experience for her. It was difficult to explain or analyse, even to herself, how she felt. For Molly, the closest way she could explain it was that Charles felt like part of her; that if he wasn't there and part of her life, she wouldn't feel complete as a person. Even now, with his temporary absence, she felt it.

Not only was he her lover but he was her best friend as well. She had never felt anything remotely like that with any of the men she had been with before. In comparison to Charles they were all, every one of them without exception, low-lifes who would think nothing of cheating on her given half the chance. She had just been a convenient accessory and somebody to screw when the mood took them. It was exciting to feel these new feelings in a relationship but at the same time very frightening.

Her chat with Nan the previous evening, when everybody else had gone to the pub, had helped her clarify those feelings. Molly and her grandmother had a very special relationship and one of complete confidentiality. They were sitting with mugs of tea in the kitchen.

"So who's this bloke you're running off to see?" said her grandmother, "I'm assuming it's a bloke, to take you away from 'ome on your last four days of leave".

"He's the guy who used to be my CO on tour Nan. He's the one that was terribly wounded, in the stomach and leg. He almost died but he's on the mend now."

"What, don't tell me he's some old, toff officer type is he?"

"No Nan, he's in his twenties and he's the most wonderful, beautiful man I have ever met."

"We all fought you was keen on Smurf."

"Nan, I was never, ever "keen on Smurf" in that way. He was a mate that's all."

"Is it allowed though Molls? Couldn't you get into trouble shacking up with an officer?"

"We didn't do nuffing more than hold hands in Afghan, Nan, we was very careful. Well 'e did kiss me once. But now it's all OK. He's not my CO any more. It's allowed if you don't work together."

"What's 'is name? "asked Nan.

"It's Charles James Nan."

"What do we call 'im then, "Charlie"?"

"Not if you want to see him again!"

Nan smiled then became serious.

"Be careful Molls, I don't want to see you get hurt. Men are men, whether they're from a big posh 'ouse or a council flat. They only want one fing then its "sling yer 'ook"."

"No, Nan, you're wrong. I know that kind of man; I've known loads of 'em. But no way is Charles like that. He's a gentleman. He really loves me and I can tell he does. And I love him too."

"A gentleman eh?" said Nan with a smile, "can't say as I've ever come across one of **them** before."

"I've never felt like this Nan. I have an ache inside when I ain't wiv 'im. Says he wants to be with me for the rest of me life and, if he asks properly, I'd say "yes" without a second thought."

"Well all I can say Molls is I can't wait to meet 'im, but tell 'im from me, if 'e hurts my Molly, I will follow 'im to the ends of the Earth and severely damage 'is other leg".

Molly smiled recalling the conversation with her grandmother. All conversations with Nan made her smile.

She could see the train buffet counter through in the next carriage. It had just opened up and nobody was queuing so she nipped through to get a tea. As she returned to her seat, the train began to move and she put down the scalding hot paper cup with the tea-bag string hanging out of it. Then she got out of her bag the copy of Pride and Prejudice she had just bought from W H Smith on the station concourse. Charles would only nag her until she had a go at reading it.

She begun to read, "It is a truth universally acknowledged..." emptied two sachets of milk into the cup, and sipped her, very hot, tea.

**Didcot Station 2.40pm**

The train slowed and then stopped at Didcot station.

After almost an hour's reading she was absolutely hooked. The characters had flown off the page like no book she'd ever read before and she hadn't put it down once. They were now real people to her, not just figments of the author's imagination. Elizabeth Bennet, with whom she identified completely, had just told Mr Collins what he could do with his proposal and she had met the smooth Mr Wickham. Molly was rooting for them to get together, not knowing what a ratbag he was going to turn out to be. The phone, placed on the table beside the empty paper cup, rang, and the word "Bossman" lit up on the screen.

"Hi Boss"

"Hello Molly, how's it going?"

"Fine. Glad I got a taxi, don't know how I'd have managed on the tube."

"Are you on time?"

"Think so. Look, Charles, I've been thinking."

"Now Dawsey, you know that only leads to trouble, don't you."

"Seriously Charles. I'm crapping myself about meeting your family. What if they don't like me? What if they think I ain't good enough for you?"

"They'll love you Molly. Honestly, you've nothing to worry about. They're not snobs and they'll recognise straight away what an amazing, lovely person you are. I've already told them that Prince Charles thinks you're the bees' knees. How could they NOT like you with a recommendation like that. You'll be fine. They'll want to adopt you within minutes."

"But then I'd be yer sister! Yuck!"

"Only on paper, so it wouldn't impose any constraints on us"

They laughed.

"'ere, that Pride and Prejudice is well good. So I know who I am. I'm Lizzy Bennet. But I 'm not sure who you are yet, the 'orrible Mr Darcy, the wonderful Mr Wickham or Mr Nice, aka Mr Bingley?"

"Wait and see Dawsey, wait and see."

"The train set off once again."

"How was your shopping trip, Boss? "

"Had some real surprises. You were on the BBC News Channel this morning you know. I was in John Lewis TV Department when you were suddenly on every screen in the place. I almost had a heart attack, sorry, a Julius Seizure to you. On one of the larger screens your face was almost two feet across. Imagine that!"

"Just as well I was careful with me makeup then!"

"You looked like a gorgeous giant, Dawsey. Then my mother showed me your picture in the Telegraph. We bought a copy of almost every paper on the way home. Your picture was in five of them. We binned the rest"

"Your mother, thanks for reminding me! 'Ere Charles, I'm gonna be responsible for training sixty five Afghans to be competent medics, got bleedin' talks to give to VIPs and Gawd knows what else ahead of me in the next three months. But it's all a piece a cake compared to meeting your **mother**."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the reviews and support. Sorry things are slow in coming through.  
**

**To the trolls out there that find my humble efforts "boring", the solution is simple; please don't read my stuff. It is not obligatory!**

**Back to Afghan (via Bath)**

**Part 2**

**20 Royal Crescent, Bath 2.50pm**

For Emma James and her older brother, Charles, growing up in No 20 Royal Crescent was no different to any other house. They were oblivious to the fact that the Royal Crescent is recognised, the world over, as the epitome of Georgian elegance; a group of 30 terraced houses, all built in the local golden sandstone, and laid out, as the name suggests, in a graceful curve. As children, none of this was of any importance, it was just a wonderful, comfortable, place to live, cosy in the Winter and cool in the Summer, a source of nothing but happy memories. Now they were in their twenties, but the house had lost none of its magic.

The kitchen had always been the social centre and the heart of the house, particularly in the winter months when the AGA maintained an almost constant warmth, day and night. Charles was now sitting by himself at the large oak table in the middle of it, trying to wrap a present as tastefully as he could, whilst at the same time speaking to somebody on the cordless phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear.

"Molly ...Molly...it'll be fine, I have it all sorted. Of course they haven't put us in the same room. They won't think you're a "slapper" at all! You've got your own room, the guest room. However, it's conveniently on the top floor next to mine and has a lock and key. So you can lock it if you want peace and quiet or leave it unlocked if you want to risk the odd night-time visit from yours truly. "

_Charles listened intently to the reply._

"They're all dying to meet you, honestly. Go get another cup of tea and escape back into your book. I'll be there on the platform to meet you and I won't leave your side until you've met every last one of 'em. Ring me when you're leaving Swindon. OK?"

_He listened again_

"Love you too"

_Pause_

"Bye"

Towards the end of this conversation his sister Emma had come down from her room and strolled into the kitchen. She'd walked up behind him, stooped down to put her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss on the ear.

"Was that the famous Molly?"she asked.

"It was. She was worried about the sleeping arrangements and meeting you lot. And I don't blame her. You off duty now then?"

"Yes I am. Not on again until two tomorrow...So she isn't just a figment of your imagination after all!"

"No she isn't, and now you lot have all the proof you need", he said pointing to a small pile of newspapers on the table, "she's got her picture in all of those."

"Ooh, let me see" said Emma pulling up a chair beside him and picking up a paper at random, "what page?" They poured through the papers together.

"She looks very sweet Charles," was her verdict after studying all the pictures.

"She has countless endearing qualities, Ems, but I'm not sure I'd ever describe her as "sweet", not to her face anyway".

"OK let's just say she's lovely", said his sister. "Is that a rare medal, that Military Cross she got?"

"She's only the fifth woman in history to have won it, and the youngest ever, Ems"

"Wow, what a girl. You must be so proud of her"

Charles and Emma were, and always had been, very close. He was the perfect big brother, always there for her as long as she could remember, as mentor, supporter and protector. In appearance, they had always been remarkably similar and by the time they were in their teens, despite the two year difference, people would often think they were twins. Although she was four inches shorter than him, she was still tall for a woman (over five foot nine) and had the same athletic frame as her brother. Her build and height made her a natural Netball player and she had ended up representing her University, and later her County, at the sport. Seven years as medical student, intern and then Junior Registrar at the Royal United Hospital, Bath had meant less and less time for sport but she still kept fit and was a serious jogger. She had just been accepted for the next London Marathon.

One a soldier, the other a doctor. The irony of the choice of professions of the two siblings was not lost on any of the family or their friends; one trained to kill, the other trained to cure.

"How's the flat hunting going," he asked.

"Only just started really and no luck yet, not much around until the Spring I expect. Dad at work?" asked Emma.

"Yeah, he's in London so won't be back 'til late. At least she won't be confronted by ALL the family at one time."

"And where's Mum".

"She's in her bedroom, preparing for "The Meeting" at the station in about 15 minutes" he replied, "I am not sure who's more nervous, her or Molly".

"How's it going, Mum" he shouted at the top of his voice through the kitchen door in the direction of the hall and stairs.

"Down in a minute," came the muffled reply

...

As she shouted down the stairs, their mother was standing in front of the full length mirror in her room smoothing down the material of her dress over her hips.

_Pretty good for your age, _she said to herself, not for the first time.

Ruth James was still a strikingly attractive woman, although she was now in her mid fifties. Her two children had inherited many of her features; her slim build, a pair of lovely deep brown eyes and her wavy, thick, dark brown hair to name but three. She had always looked after herself, eating healthily and going to the gym regularly. She had excellent dress sense and the money to indulge it, so even at the age of fifty three she could still turn heads as she walked through Bath.

She was uncharacteristically nervous about meeting Molly. At one level it was simply meeting her son's new girlfriend, a thing she had done many times before. But she felt in her bones that this one was special and wanted it to go well. The last time she'd met one of his girlfriends she'd screwed up big-time. She'd taken an instant dislike to Rebecca and, unfortunately, had let it show. For the life of her, Ruth couldn't see what her son saw in her. She found Rebecca cold, opinionated and distinctly humourless. She also had an annoying habit of talking in front of the family about people that only she and Charles knew; a strange version of snobbish name-dropping. Ruth hid it well, but she was very disappointed when he announced his engagement to Rebecca and she had always feared it wouldn't last.

_Maybe she's very good in bed, _Ruth had reasoned to herself.

Relations had been frosty from the start and didn't really improve much over seven years. Poor Charles was always in the middle of it all.

...

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Emma had just noticed what Charles was doing (or trying to do).

"Charles, what is this mess on the table in front of you?" she asked, "please don't tell me it's a present for Molly".

"Unfortunately my hands are more adept at stripping down an SA80 rifle than gift wrapping! For reasons I won't go into, I particularly wanted a beautiful big red bow using this ribbon but I can't even manage that"

"If you give her a prezzy in that state," said his sister, "she'll likely be so insulted she'll never want to see you, ever again."

Emma went over to a kitchen drawer and got out some scissors and double-sided sellotape. "Do something useful and make me a coffee, please Charles, while I sort this lot out. It's not rocket science, you know, double sided is the key to good gift wrapping"

Charles went over to the Nespresso machine and started making them each a coffee.

**Swindon Station 3.02pm**

The train moved out of Swindon station and started to gather speed. Next stop Bath Spa Station. Molly nervously checked her make-up yet again in a small mirror, replaced the mirror in her bag then picked up her book. _One thing about a good book, _she thought,_ is the time don't 'alf scoot by. _

She had convinced herself that the journey to Bath would be "well boring" but Charles's book recommendation had made it anything but. She was half way through now and starting to realise that the characters so beautifully crafted by Ms Austen might not actually be quite as bad, or as good, as she first supposed.

_Shit_ she said to herself almost out loud, _I_ '_ad to ring the Boss when I got to Swindon!_

She put the book down and picked up her iPhone as quickly as she could.

**20 Royal Crescent, Bath 3.05 pm**

Charles shouted in the direction of the hall again, "Mum! She's just texted to say she's leaving Swindon. Are you ready yet?"

"Just coming Charles, its only five minutes in the car you know", was the distant, barely audible, reply.

"Not if there's traffic," he shouted back.

Emma had now finished. The iPad he'd bought for Molly as a going away present was now beautifully wrapped in metallic pink paper tied up with a red ribbon and finished with a large red multi-looped ribbon bow. No trace of sellotape ends or creases in the paper could be seen. It looked, for all the world, like it had been professionally gift wrapped in Harrods.

"Voila, a surgeon's hands have many uses!" she said, as she handed it to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**It was originally my intention to finish after they arrive at No20 (next chapter) but I am starting to believe there's quite a lot to be told about this little trip which of course was never covered in the Series. As I started writing I got to really like the Emma character and believe she could become a close friend to Molly and a positive influence. We also have Mr James, Rebecca and Sam to make a contribution as well!**

...

**Back to Afghan (via Bath)**

**Part 3**

**The back garden, 20 Royal Crescent, Bath 3.10pm**

It was a long walk to the car. There is no convenient access at the front of the Royal Crescent so all the garages are at the ends of the very long back gardens. It's one of the few drawbacks of living there; packing or unpacking a car involves a lot of walking. Charles and his mother were heading towards No20's garage down the two hundred feet of meticulously kept back garden. She had the keys for her husband's Range Rover rather than her little Mini Cooper, because of the amount of luggage they were expecting Molly to bring with her. They chatted about nothing in particular as they walked, mainly the weather and the likely amount of traffic for that time of day.

They'd now reached the garage, Charles opened the doors while Ruth got into the huge 4X4 and manoeuvred it out into the road. Her son got into the passenger seat. They drove off towards the station.

Ruth was surprised when, out of the blue, Charles started to talk about Afghan, something he rarely did. "I haven't told you before but we had an incident half way through the tour. An eleven year old girl had been strapped up in a suicide bomb vest by her father and left in the village square like a human booby trap."

"That is... terrible," she said trying to find an extreme enough adjective and not succeeding. "It's unbelievable what these fanatics will do. How could he do that,... to his own daughter?"

"We realised what was up, isolated her and called for bomb disposal, but they needed five minutes to get there. The girl was standing all alone in the square, hands up in the air, and with pouches of explosive all round her body. She was terrified. Although we'd blanked out all mobile signals to prevent remote detonation, any vibration, tremor or knock could have set it off and the girl was getting more agitated by the second."

"What happened?"

"Molly stripped off her bergen and helmet and walked up to her in the middle of the square, just the two of them, nobody else for fifty yards. She held the girl's hand, talked to her and calmed her down for five minutes until the bomb disposal guy arrived, looking like a deep sea diver in all his armour. The vest was removed and left in the square and the girl whisked away to a safe house. Just as Molly ran back to us, the vest went off."

"Wow, that's amazing Charles, but why would she want to risk her life like that?"

"Because that's the way she is. But it was during that incident that I realised what she meant to me and how devastated I'd have been if anything had happened to her."

There was a silence for a few seconds then his mother spoke. "Oh so that's when you first realised you had feelings for her."

"I guess it was Mum."

"When did you know she felt the same?"

"When she was going back on leave – we had a magical moment just before she went, when I asked her to get me some coffee pods back in London."

Ruth would have liked to know what the "magical moment" was, but he'd tell her sometime maybe, if he wanted her to know!

...

**Bath Spa Station 3.15pm**

Charles and his mother drove the rest of the short distance to Bath Spa station, each engrossed in their own thoughts. Charles was rather regretting telling his mother about the suicide bomb incident and his mother was thinking about the sort of sick society that her son had been risking his life for. They'd allowed a generous fifteen minutes in case of traffic problems. In the event, the roads were completely clear and they arrived a full 10 minutes before Molly's train was due. As usual at Bath Spa Station, there were no short-stay parking places to be found, so Ruth had had to park illegally.

Under normal circumstances Charles would have sat in the car for another ten minutes with his mother, but he was unaccountably nervous and felt conversation would have been difficult. Worse, his mother, a very observant woman, would have cottoned on to the fact that her son was now acting like a nervous schoolboy on his first ever date and that would be very embarrassing. It was totally illogical of course. It wasn't their first date; they'd slept together for Goodness sake. And yet somehow the anticipation of seeing her again tied knots in his stomach and meant he couldn't sit, or stand, still. And so he walked, with what was now only a slight limp, onto the platform and wandered up and down, watching the bright orange numbers on the digital clocks slowing ticking the seconds away towards 1525. Time was moving much more slowly than usual!

Eventually, after what seemed an age, the announcement came over the PA, "the train now arriving on platform one is the three twenty five to Bristol only."

_Shit, you idiot, _he thought, _you haven't got a trolley and she's going to be loaded down with luggage._

He saw a stack of trolleys next to the "WAY OUT" and went back to pick one up. At least he didn't have to wear that blasted support boot any more and could move reasonably quickly. By the time he had found a pound coin in one of his many pockets and manoeuvred the trolley out of its stack, the train was coming to a stop. He pushed the trolley slowly onto the platform watching the large numbers of passengers streaming out through every door of every carriage.

_Where on earth is she? _he said to himself.

_..._

**Bath Spa Station approach – London/Bristol train - 3.20pm**

Through the window Molly could see that the train was now coming into the outskirts of a town or city.

She checked her watch,_ Guess this must be Barf_.

She'd have to stop reading her book now and get ready to get out. Pity. She'd almost got to the end of Fitzwilliam Darcy's long letter to Lizzy Bennet. First impressions, they were so critical in her book, and so it was in real life. Mr Darcy, was looking like a nicer and nicer guy as the book went on and the charming Mr Wickham was now turning out to be a seducer of underage girls. What would the James family's "first impression" of Molly Dawes be? She got out her mirror for one final make-up check.

Molly looked over at all her luggage in the racks and sudden panic set in. It was fine getting it all in at Paddington; she had all the time in the world. But at Bath she would have to get it all out in the short time before the train set off again for Bristol. She put on her coat checked there was nothing left on the table and then went to start moving her bags to the doorway of the coach.

As she heaved and tugged at the biggest one, a middle aged man sitting alone opposite the racks of luggage, spoke to her. He had a weather-beaten face but was smartly dressed. "I recognise those. They're Army kit bags."

"Sure are mate," she said with a hint of suspicion.

"As heavy now as they were in my day no doubt. Sergeant-Major Colin Southcott, ex Royal Engineers. Can I give you a hand."

Molly did not argue. Ex RSM Southcott looked like a pretty strong guy. "Thanks mate, Private Molly Dawes RAMC".

"Just back from Afghanistan?"

"Nah mate, just off – again. Second tour."

They continued to chat about deployments to various trouble spots as they moved the bags together. He'd served in Iraq it turned out.

By the time all the kit was stacked by the door, they were coming into Bath Spa Station. Molly squeezed past the bags, lowered the window and stuck her head out as they entered the platform. She scanned the whole length of it. It was busy but she couldn't see a sign of Charles anywhere.

_"Where on earth is he?_ she said to herself.

...

**Bath Spa Station Car Park 3.20pm**

While her son had gone off to meet Molly on the platform Ruth James had stayed with the car, ready to shift it if any parking attendants came into view. She'd had to park on a double yellow line!

As she sat there, her thoughts were about this person who had become so important to her son.

She'd first been made aware of Private Molly Dawes when Charles had dropped her name into several of the letters that he'd sent home from his last tour. In the early letters it was clear that he was very impressed with the competence of his new, replacement medic but as time went on she detected more than professional admiration. For instance, in one letter, he mentioned what amazingly beautiful green eyes his medic had; not the sort of thing you normally expect a Captain to say about a member of his Platoon! But in letters to her after that there was no doubt, he was quite open about it. He confided in her, his feelings for Molly, the fact that he now knew she felt the same and the anguish he felt keeping things "under wraps" and "waiting out". She now knew that that must have been after the "coffee pod moment" (whatever that was!).

The period after he had been shot was a time she would rather forget. Her recollections were only of numbness and panic and helplessness. There had been the terrible wait until he was air ambulanced back to the UK, two weeks of endless hospital visits and then thankfully better memories as he slowly pulled through. Apparently, during that time at the hospital, Molly had gone to see him but their paths hadn't crossed. It then transpired that Rebecca HAD met with her. She had taken Sam to see him and found Molly by his bedside. Rebecca had told Ruth all about it, in great detail.

"I got the impression that Rebecca was a bit put out and suspicious finding them together," she had told her husband afterwards, "but, of course, she had no right to be. She has no claim on him anymore. She told me that the medic didn't look like his type and was a bit "common". Snob!"

During his recovery it had all come out and she found out just what the family owed Molly Dawes. Dawesy, as Charles called her, had saved his life. Without her expertise and bravery, she would not now have a son, he would have died in some God-forsaken part of Afghanistan. She shuddered every time she thought about it. Not only had Molly used her medical skills to save him, she had shot dead the terrorist who was still firing at Charles as he lay injured. She was quite something, that Molly Dawes. Charles was obviously concerned as to whether she would be accepted by the family, after all he hadn't got the best track record with his choice of women. But Molly's case had already been made. He really needn't have worried, they already loved her to bits!

She looked towards the station entrance_. _

_Where on earth are they, _she thought to herself.

...

**Sorry folks, don't mean to prolong the agony too much but this chapter was getting too long. Promise next (very short) chapter within 24 hours. It already written just needs a tweak here and there.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

**Platform 1 Bath Spa Station 3.27pm**

For Charles, slight panic was setting in. _This is ridiculous, she must have got off this train, somewhere!_

He scanned the platform from one end to the other and still couldn't see her but it was difficult with the large number of people milling around. There must have been hundreds of passengers who had just got off the London train and they were now on the platform, meeting people, sorting out trolleys, organising their luggage, looking for the exit, and all the other things people do when they arrive in an unfamiliar city. Why didn't he think to ask her what colour coat she'd be wearing? That would have helped.

Then he breathed a deep sigh of relief, a full two carriage lengths away he recognised a small figure in a navy, padded coat, trying to persuade several large pieces of luggage out of the door. Some kind fellow passenger, a middle aged man, was helping her. He walked towards her pushing the trolley with his heart pounding. God, she was lovely, that thick chestnut hair cascading down around her shoulders while she struggled with the bags. She still hadn't noticed him and was now thanking her "Good Samaritan" for assisting her. Her helper got back into the train with a cheery wave. By then Charles was just close enough to hear him say "good luck Molly" before he closed the carriage door with a slam.

Charles came up behind her and stood there with the trolley, "Need a porter miss?"

She turned, looked at him with those beautiful green eyes and flashed the blinding smile that he remembered so well. Its warmth permeated his whole body. She ran the three paces between them. Her arms went straight around his neck and she stood on tiptoe so that she could reach his lips with hers. Not a word was spoken. The knots in his stomach miraculously disappeared, he put his arms around her in a tight hug, stooping a little and, returned the kiss. The kiss lasted a long, long time!

Young lovers greeting one another at the end of a railway journey are a common sight on station platforms the world over and the reaction of other passengers is the same everywhere. It's a look and a smile that says "I remember being in love like that". Charles and Molly were both oblivious to all the smiling passers-by.

Charles put his cheek against hers and spoke first. "God, I've missed you so much Molly".

"Ditto" was all she could say, but he loved hearing her say it and he kissed her again.

They helped each other pile the bags onto the trolley and set off for the car. Molly made up for her silence by chatting non-stop about the journey, the book she was reading and how she'd missed him. It was slow going though. They stopped, on average, every ten or so paces to kiss, each time a little more passionately.

...

**Bath Spa Station - Car Park 3.30pm**

_Here they are! _She almost said it out loud.

Ruth could see them coming out through the station entrance, talking to each other continually. Charles was pushing a trolley piled high with Army bags. Molly had one hand resting on his as they walked. As they were talking, she kept looking up to his face as if she couldn't believe he was actually there. Ruth couldn't hold back any longer. She got out of the car, leaving it at the mercy of any passing parking attendant (_what the Hell, it's only a fine!)_, and half walked, half ran, the fifty or so yards towards them. Her thoughts raced as she got closer and closer, _Molly Dawes at last. What a gorgeous looking girl._ _Just like that photo in the paper. But even lovelier with her hair down._

Molly was rather concerned to see this elegantly dressed woman staring at her face and running straight towards her. _Either it's Bossman's Mum, or it's a complete nutbar, s_he thought_. "_What do I do, Charles," she said out of the corner of her mouth, "shake hands, kiss her on the cheek or call the police!?" Charles laughed. The decision was taken away from her as Ruth wrapped her arms around her, despite the thick winter coat, gave her a huge bear hug which lasted an inordinately long time, and then kissed her on both cheeks, and then hugged her some more!

Ruth put her hands on Molly's shoulders and looked into her eyes, "Hello Molly, it's so lovely to meet you at last."

"And you, Mrs James."

"Call me Ruth, Molly".

"Don't mind my mother," said Charles, "She can be a bit over-demonstrative at times"

Then he gave Molly a look as if to say, _there, what did I tell you, nothing to worry about!_

The hatch was opened and the bags were thrown in. Molly and Charles got into the back seat and folded up the armrest.

"Have you two got your seat-belts on?"

"Yes Mum", he said, in the same tone he'd used since he was a four year old (when being asked if he'd tidied his room).

In the mirror, Ruth saw Charles put his arm around Molly's shoulders. She saw their heads turn towards each other with huge smiles on their faces and then they kissed each other very tenderly. Molly rested her head against him and laid her arm across his chest.

Ruth drove off back towards The Royal Crescent with a big grin on her face. With the empty passenger seat beside her and a couple "making out" in the back she felt just like a typical taxi driver.

But she didn't mind one little bit!

...

**20 Royal Crescent 3.45pm**

At the back of the garage there was a small four-wheeled sack trolley used for ferrying shopping to the house. This was now loaded up with Molly's kit and, pulled by Ruth and Molly side by side, they set off towards the house up the wide path. Charles followed behind. The garden was beautifully manicured but clearly not at its best. There was some winter colour; the copper beech hedge's golden leaves and the large number of dogwoods with their brilliant red stems had been cunningly planted to give a winter contrast against the green lawns. But for the most part it was rather bare.

Molly thought it time to make polite conversation, "Must look lovely in the Summer, Mrs - er - Ruth."

"It does Molly, beautiful. Its perfect, sitting out here on a warm Summer evening"

"But a lot of work I guess"

"Fortunately we have a really good gardener who comes in half a day a week. Couldn't manage it without him."

They reached the back porch and unloaded the trolley just inside the door. The porch led straight into a utility room, which in turn led into the kitchen. Charles shut the outside door behind them and they started removing coats. He couldn't help but stare at the beautiful pale green dress that Molly had now revealed which accentuated her lovely figure. Molly could see the effect it had on him and only wished she'd changed into heels in the car. Her trainers did not go with the dress at all. At that moment Emma came out from the kitchen drying her hands on a small towel.

She smiled a very welcoming smile at the visitor, "Hello, you must be Molly, I'm Emma – I'm the baby sister." They shook hands, which seemed terribly formal after his mother's greeting earlier.

Molly was gobsmacked. She could not believe what she was looking at. It was a female version of Charles; same build, same face (but prettier!), same eyes. Even the hair was the same colour and texture, but cut very short. Molly had always reckoned that only the prettiest face could get away with very short hair like that. It suited Emma perfectly she thought.

Molly became conscious that she hadn't replied at all but they were still shaking hands. She leant towards Emma and kissed her on the cheek. The kiss on the cheek developed into a tentative hug.

"Hello lovely to meet ya."

"Come into the kitchen Molly," said Emma, "I'm sure you're in dire need of a cup of tea and I put the kettle on when I saw you all arrive."

They filed into the kitchen, Molly and Charles holding hands. Emma went to get mugs out of a cupboard.

"It's lovely to meet all of ya'," said Molly, "but I gotta be honest and tell ya' there's one thing I really don't like about this family."

The three members of the James family turned, as one, to look at her, all aghast.

"You're all too bleedin' tall," she said.

...

**Thanks for all the feedback. Your support and encouragement is what keeps me going. Consensus is 100% to continue the story apart from the sad troll (see below). There may be a short break (a few days) before Chapter 5 though. Sorry, I have to earn a living!**

**Note to the stupid troll that keeps writing guest reviews. It takes longer for you to type your drivel than for me to delete it. So if you want to continue wasting your time that's your problem. It worries me not a jot. You are one sad person.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN. I've tried to mix internal thoughts with external conversation even more than previous chapters. Bit of an experiment.  
**

**Back to Afghan (via Bath)**

**Part 5**

**No 20 Royal Crescent, Bath 3.50pm**

Captain Charles James was a very happy man.

Outside, it was looking gloomy and miserable. But he was sitting, sipping a mug of tea, at the large oak table in the warm-as-toast kitchen of his family home in Bath. With him were the three women who meant most to him in the world, his mother, his sister and a certain Private Molly Dawes from his old Platoon. The three of them seemed to be getting on so well, it really couldn't be going any better. OK, the conversation was safe and predictable, but they'd only just met after all. His mother and Emma were asking Molly about her responsibilities and the preparations for her second tour. Molly, for her part, seemed very interested in the newly implemented training structure for hospital doctors and his mother's voluntary work with the National Trust. As she spoke, Molly's fingers tensed and relaxed in his hand as she moved slightly in her chair while talking. He looked at his left hand and her right, with fingers intertwined, resting on the table. It looked and felt so "right", so natural, like they were joined together. It was difficult to feel whose fingers were whose.

How different to the first introduction of Rebecca to the family. That had been in this same kitchen, round this same table, about seven years ago. Only difference was Dad was sitting where Emma was now. Emma was away at St Thomas's starting her placement in A&amp;E, twelve hours, on, twelve hours off, poor thing. He and Rebecca had sat three feet apart, no holding hands then. The conversation was embarrassingly stilted and very forced. No way could he sit back like he was doing now and let it all flow over him. He'd had to keep the conversation going himself until, mercifully, they had spent long enough chatting to politely make their exit, much to the relief of everybody. His mother had made it clear that she didn't like Rebecca very much, and that didn't help then, or ever since, come to that.

Rebecca was a typical university romance, the best looking girl in his circle of fellow students became a convenient girlfriend for social gatherings, and a bit of a status symbol to flaunt in a predominantly male college. By the time they were in their final year they had moved in together to save money and were engaged. He didn't remember ever proposing, it just seemed to have been taken for granted. From then on it was an escalator he couldn't get off. He'd tried to break things up once, but she had become hysterical and threatened to take her own life (well in so many words). He backed down to wait for another, better day to make the break, but the "another, better day" never materialised. The wedding day bookings and financial commitments got ever closer and more difficult to cancel. Before he knew it they were married.

Sam came along almost immediately. He'd hoped this would give them the common focus they needed to improve the marriage but, as so often happens, it didn't work. From then on, with his long trips away, it was only a matter of time before she was tempted to be unfaithful. Rob, her new partner, was apparently not the first. Charles turned to look at Molly, so close against him that they were in contact from their hands right up to their shoulders. She was as different to Rebecca as it was possible to be. So full of life. So quick witted. So gregarious. So kind and caring.

Molly had now turned to look at him wondering why he wasn't joining in the conversation. He seemed miles away and had a blissful look on his face.

"Charles, ...CHARLES...**CHARLES!...**", somebody was saying something very loudly and Molly was squeezing his hand hard to bring him round.

**"**Er, sorry Mum, yes, did you say something?"

"Are we boring you Charles or are you off with the fairies somewhere?" asked his mother.

Molly was looking at him quizzically as well.

"Sorry, just thinking."

"I was asking what plans you have for the weekend", repeated his mother.

"Er, well I was going to discuss that with Molly later," he said, focusing as quickly as he could. "Sam is coming tomorrow evening and staying overnight. Depending on the weather we can take him out somewhere nice. He loves trains so I thought the Gloucestershire and Warwickshire Steam Heritage Line, or Bristol and the SS Great Britain maybe..."

For Molly this introduction to the James family couldn't have started better. Ruth and Emma were lovely people, more welcoming than she could ever have imagined; easy to talk to and genuinely interested in her it seemed. She would probably have found the grandeur of the house overpowering had she not had that short visit last month while the rest of the family were in Lake Garda. Just as well really. She remembered her jaw quite literally drop, when she stepped into that kitchen for the first time. The whole of the East Ham flat would probably fit into it. It looked like one of those kitchens you only see in magazines at the hairdressers.

Molly was starting to think in Pride and Prejudice analogies all the time now and her immediate thought was, _This is how Lizzy Bennet would feel if suddenly dropped into Mr Darcy's place at Pemberley. She'd be overawed by the unthinkable wealth but impressed with the style! _Unlike Charles, she was listening to, and contributing to, the conversation while **her** thoughts wandered. She'd always been good at multi-tasking.

She wondered, if she'd been born in this house rather than a pokey maisonette in the East End, how different her life would have been. Would she now be a medical student en route to a successful career as a surgeon? How wonderful it would be to have parents who could hold an intelligent conversation and who could support you through all the critical decisions in your life. But that was a little unfair! Her mother did her best and had had the same tough breaks in life as she had. It was a continuous, and depressing cycle; teenage pregnancy, lack of parenting skills, poverty, too many children to share what little parenting skills there were, and poor schools. All this so often led to teenage pregnancy and the cycle began again. She was so grateful to be out of it.

This was what a family really should be, tangible love, mutual support and nurture. She could sense all these things in in this house, just in the short time she had been drinking a mug of tea. It was another world; and one she liked. All of a sudden she felt very vulnerable. What if he changed his mind about her. This life, she was being given a glimpse of, would be snatched away forever. Her hand tensed.

Charles felt the sudden tension and looked at her.

"So what did Prince Charles say to you Molly," asked Ruth.

Emma listened to Molly's reply and knew only too well that they were only being told the half of it. Molly clearly didn't want to blow her own trumpet and that was to her credit, but Emma and Ruth had both been told by Charles that the Prince had said he was in complete awe of her. Molly didn't mention that at all. In fact Molly had told no one, not even Charles, that the Prince had also told her it was a privilege for him to have met her. That was between her and HRH.

Emma was fascinated by Charles's and Molly's hands. The fingers were intertwined and one thumb continually stroked the other – in a sort of thumb dance! They were clearly very much in love and she didn't think she'd ever seen Charles so happy. Perhaps one day she'd find somebody really special like that – it hadn't happened yet. Her social circle was ninety nine percent doctors but the hours she worked were very antisocial at the moment and in any case no one she knew at work appealed to her. All the nice ones seemed to get married early. She had thought about the Internet but kept putting it off.

_This girl is just what Charles needs, _she thought, _a pretty little firecracker of a Cockney with a lovely nature but a strong enough character to keep him on his toes._

"We talked about Afghan," Molly was saying, "he wanted to know how the people, the real people, felt about us and our leaving."

"And how did they feel?" asked Ruth.

Molly repeated more or less word for word what she had told Prince Charles.

"Also told me I'd make a good Blue Peter presenter," added Molly, "so I've always got that to fall back on if me Army career goes down the Pontius Pilate...'owever, Charles 'ere, was quick to point out that nobody would understand me on TV without subtitles and that, in any case, my swearing would get me the sack in the first week!"

"Charles! Don't listen to him Molly, I agree with HRH" said Ruth, "you'd be really good."

"Thanks Ruth, at least somebody believes in me" she said turning to smile at Charles.

Ruth was very much aware that Charles and Molly had not been alone together for weeks and were probably longing to be so. Time to get organising now that the mugs of tea were all empty.

"Well Molly, shall we show you to your room? Charles mustn't carry anything heavy at the moment so perhaps you could do the honours Ems? We can leave the army kit down here. And I'll start on the veg prep for dinner."

Emma picked up the larger of the holdalls and swung the Bergen over her shoulder. Molly took the smaller holdall and the huge army kitbag was left in the utility room. "I'll lead the way" Emma said walking out of the kitchen.

The hall and staircases were as elegant as the rest of the house with beautiful, sweeping mahogany banisters and Georgian tiles with rugs on the floor. It was two flights up to the guest room. Emma was in the lead carrying the big bags, Molly was behind her and Charles close behind Molly enjoying the view in front of him immensely. Onto the first landing, "That's the bath and shower room there Molly, there is a loo on your floor."

They started up the second flight. Suddenly, Molly's free hand whipped around her back and caught the top of Charles's head with a resounding slap. She hadn't meant it to be that hard, just a little tap was what she intended. He winced.

"Oi, stop ogling me arse, will ya"

"I wasn't", he lied.

"Yes you was. I 'ave a sixth sense for perv. detection, me. Remember I grew up in the East End."

"If I was, **IF** I was, then it's your own fault for having a bottom that would put Kylie's to shame and for wrapping it up in such a slinky dress."

"Alright, you're forgiven."

Emma was smiling at the banter as she reached the top of the stairs.

"Hey you two, do you mind postponing the foreplay until I have disappeared."

"I thought we was on the top floor".

Charles clarified things, "Top floor used to be the servants quarters in the old days Dawsey, its mainly small rooms; Sam sometimes sleeps up here in the Summer but it's mainly used for storage and my Dad's enormous train set!"

"Oh!"

The guest room was as big as all the other rooms she'd seen and just as beautifully furnished and decorated. The kingsize bed had a pile of various sized towels piled on it all in a matching and very luxurious deep red. Molly put the holdall down and walked over to the large window. The view from the front of the house was stunning; a large expanse of well manicured lawn within the crescent led down to the tree lined River Avon half a mile away. Beyond that she could see nothing much but woodland. She longed to see it on a bright sunny day.

"I'll leave you two alone then. See you downstairs when you're ready."

"Thanks Ems, see ya" said Molly turning round from the window.

Emma left and tactfully pulled the door shut behind her.

Molly and Charles were alone at last with just a great big king-size bed separating them!

**AN Not too much anticipation please. Remember TG and the Beeb leave a great deal to the imagination.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**While all is going smoothly at the moment I am sure there will be tensions before the four day break is over. After all, Rebecca has yet to enter this little drama, and perhaps a snobby relative (maybe)!**

**This Part is all about Charles's Mum and Molly. I am certain that Ruth would want some time on her own with our heroine given Molly's role in saving Charles.**

**Your reviews are what me going so please keep them coming. Do pm me if you think there's something I need to address.**

**Back to Afghan (via Bath)**

**Part 6**

**Guest Room, 20 Royal Crescent, Thursday 5.15pm**

"Babe" is a form of endearment common in the East End of London but more or less unheard of in Bath middle-class circles. It had been creeping into texts and phonecalls from Molly so unobtrusively that Charles had hardly realised it. When he did cotton on to the fact that this was becoming his new pet name, he decided he actually rather liked it. It seemed so right coming from Molly, so cockney. He certainly preferred it to "Charlie" which he felt made him sound like the village idiot and it was definitely a novelty, nobody had ever called him that before.

"Babe," said Molly, sitting down on the end of the bed, "come and sit with me, I want to talk."

"That sounds ominously similar to, 'I've been thinking,' and equally dangerous," he replied with a smile.

She didn't return his smile so he knew that this was a time to be serious and to give her his full attention. "What is it Dawsey?" he said, sitting down next to her and putting his arm protectively around her shoulder. She put her hand gently on his knee.

"Given 'alf a chance you'd 'ave your wicked way with me right now wouldn't ya?"

"It's true. I can't deny it! Why do you ask?". He had good idea what was coming.

"See, I've only just met your Mum and Emma and I really like them and if I read things right, they're starting to like me. It's very important to me that your family don't think I'm just some gold-diggin' slapper, Charles. I 'aven't been 'ere five minutes and 'ere we are, up in my room alone, as far as they're concerned going at it nineteen to the dozen. It looks awful and it makes me feel cheap."

He slid of the end of the bed, knelt in front of her so that their eyes were on the same level and took both of her hands in his.

"You really mustn't worry about them. Mum and Emma already love you to bits; I can tell. They can see how we feel about each other and they're aware that we haven't been together for weeks."

"I know but..."

"They **are** adults and very open minded."

"Yeah, I know all that but..."

"But what?"

"I'm so bleedin' noisy, that's what Babe! I can't 'elp it when..., you know, when I'm getting close an''at. They'll be able to hear us all over the house. I just couldn't look them in the eyes if I knew they'd heard me making all them noises"

He pulled the pale green fabric of her dress back a couple of inches, exposing both her knees, leant forward and kissed each one delicately in turn, then looked lovingly into her eyes. "I could always pop out and buy some duct tape if you like, that would keep you quiet." He looked thoughtful. "It would rule any kissing out though". His face creased into a wicked smile.

"See, my sixth sense was spot on. You **are** a perv."

"Seriously Molly, it's for you to decide when is right for you. If you're not comfortable for any reason then I'm always OK with that, it doesn't matter how **I **feel or what I want. It really doesn't. I'll always wait patiently until you're ready".

Molly had never, ever known a man who considered her feelings and needs above his own, not one. Every man who figured in her life, from her father through a long succession of boyfriends and one night stands, had been totally selfish. Even Smurf, who had idolised her, had been guilty of a complete lack of empathy, a total ignorance and disregard, (bordering on self delusion), of what **she** wanted from their relationship. Charles's selflessness had been a surprise and a revelation to her and what he'd just said made her realise, yet again, how special he was. She leant forward and kissed him, a non-passionate but loving, lingering kiss.

"You're a lovely man. Do you know that Charles James? I'm so lucky." she said.

"Well, we'll have to agree to disagree, I think I'm the lucky one, not you".

"Anyway, here's what I suggest," he said after a short pause thinking it all through, "I shall go straight down now to help out downstairs, which will show everybody downstairs that there's no hanky-panky going on in the guest room, not at the moment anyway." They smiled at each other. "Then I'll get changed for dinner. You can get your things unpacked and sorted, have a shower if you want, relax for a bit, read maybe, make yourself even more gorgeous and then join us when you're ready. You've got a good hour to chill out. How does that sound?"

She smiled and kissed him again.

"Changed for dinner Babe?" said Molly with a big grin as Charles walked backwards towards the door looking at her for as long as he could, "but I 'aven't bought an evening gown or me diamond necklace! I thought we was gonna eat off trays in front of the telly wearing our trackies, like what all us common people do!"

She heard Charles laughing as he left the room.

...

Charles hurried down stairs to find his mother alone in the kitchen, sitting at the table having a break now all the vegetables had been prepared. She put down the newspaper, "Hello Charles, that was quick. Molly OK?"

"Yes Mum she's fine, a bit tired after her journey so she's going to shower and chill for an hour before dinner. Anything I can do?"

"Well yes you could prepare the starter for me if you've got time."

"Fine, just tell what to do."

She rolled a galia and a canteloupe melon one by one across the table and then slid a large sealed tray of Waitrose raspberries over to him which she'd just got out of the fridge. "There you are, get cracking!" she said. "Well I must say Charles, I think you've hit the jackpot this time. She's lovely. I'll give her some time to shower and change then I want to pop up and have a private word."

"Why would you want to do that Mum?"

"Never you mind. It's between Molly and me."

Charles was worried. "Mum, Molly and Sam are the most important things that have ever happened to me. But Molly and I are still getting to know each other. Please, please don't say anything that could mess things up will you. I'd never forgive you."

"Don't be daft Charles. Of course I won't. Just get on with the Raspberry couli for the melon. We've got framboise or kirsch in the drinks cupboard. You choose. But it needs to be done **now!**

...

Molly had had a relaxing shower, and washed and dried her hair. She read a few more chapters of Pride and Prejudice and then changed into the only other dress she had brought with her, a strappy plain black one cut just below the knee, which she hoped would be considered appropriate as "dressing for dinner".

_A few clues from Charles as to what "dressing for dinner" actually meant would have been useful!_ she thought.

She'd brought two pairs of heels with her, a pair of boots which would have been totally inappropriate this evening, and, luckily, some more sensible, heeled sandals. They were beside her ready to be put on at the last moment.

Then came a totally unexpected knock at the door. "Molly, can I come in?"

Molly was a little confused. _What on Earth could Ruth want?_ Then she looked around the room. Apart from an indent where they had been sitting on the end, the bed looked untouched. _Thank Gawd we didn't do nothing on that bed, _she thought to herself.

"Come on in Ruth. I'm decent"

Ruth looked at Molly sitting in front of the dressing table. The young lady sitting there in the pretty black dress really was one of the most beautiful women she had ever set eyes on.

"Sorry Molly, I just wanted to catch you and have a private word, just the two of us". Her face looked very serious without the trace of a smile.

A look of real concern spread over Molly's face, _Oh Gawd, what's she gonna say? Warn me off? Tell me she wants something better for Charles?. And I thought we was getting on alright". _She was on the verge of tears but stood up turning to face Charles's mother.

Ruth saw the turmoil and worry in Molly's eyes and guessed at the misunderstanding. She was about to quell her fears but Molly was already speaking, "I know I ain't quite what you was 'oping for Mrs James, for Charles 'n 'at. But please believe me, nobody could love 'im more than I do."

"Molly, Molly, don't be silly. That's not what I think at all, quite the reverse! I came here to thank you and for no other reason."

"Oh", said Molly, both surprised and now rather embarrassed.

"One day I expect you'll be a mother yourself and you'll know the anguish you go through when your children are ill or injured. Imagine what its like when somebody hears their child could die. When we heard that Charles had been shot I went to pieces Molly. I was absolutely distraught. I had to have sedatives. Even then I didn't sleep for three days until he was air ambulanced back to Birmingham. Then at the hospital we heard what you'd done, how, all by yourself, you'd saved his life and shot the terrorist who was still firing at you both. Whatever happened, I determined, then and there, that I would seek you out somehow, wherever you were, and thank you face-to-face from the bottom of my heart. But amazingly, here you are, in my house! So I just wanted to say thank you, thank you, ...thank you."

Ruth had resolved to hold it together but by the third "thank you" she had put her arms around Molly and started sobbing. Molly could well imagine what she had been through, having herself sat outside his room all through that dreadful night wondering if he'd survive until the morning. She rocked her slowly from side to side comforting her as much as she could. After a little while Ruth regained her composure.

"Look at me, being so stupid, Sorry. Hope I haven't tear-stained your lovely dress or ruined your make-up!"

"Na, I'm fine Ruth. You don't think when you're there, you know. You don't think 'I'll be brave now'. You just do what 'as to be done and what you've trained for. That's all I did."

"Whatever the reason Molly I shall be grateful to you for the rest of my life. And you mustn't ever apologise for being Molly Dawes. You should be proud of being Molly Dawes. She's one of the loveliest people I've ever met and Charles is a very lucky man to have her in his life. We're all lucky to have her in our lives. There, are we on the same page now?"

Molly nodded, starting to get emotional herself.

"See you downstairs in a few minutes then?"

Molly nodded again. Ruth gave Molly another kiss on the cheek before she left and headed off downstairs without looking back. She'd said what she wanted to say.

...

**As I said, I have had to cut this chapter in two 'cos it got too long. Next part almost finished to follow soon.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N This is really the second part of a long chapter now cut in two so it doesn't have an "arc" like a chapter should. Will probably recombine Parts 6 &amp; 7 at a later date! So I warn you now, not much will happen and it is a bit messy. Regard it as very much a "link" chapter. **

**Back to Afghan (via Bath)**

**Part 7**

**The Kitchen , 20 Royal Crescent, Thursday 6.30 pm**

Charles was alone in the kitchen idly stirring a mixture of red berries and sugar which was simmering gently on the hob. He had to decide whether to add the framboise or the kirsch to give the couli it's kick. But his mind wasn't really on the task in hand. In the end he plumped for the framboise only because the bottle was at the front when he went to the drinks cupboard. _What on earth was his mother's "private talk" with Molly all about? _She'd gone up at least ten minutes ago and was still up there. He knew his mother very well and was sure she had been quite taken with Molly, _Who wouldn't be for Goodness sake? _They seemed to be getting on famously so it shouldn't be anything he need to worry about. _Could it?_ Perhaps she was warning Molly about Rebecca's spiteful ways. But in that case why wouldn't she tell him? He was sorely tempted to abandon the simmering couli and go and eavesdrop outside the guest room but at that very moment he heard his mother coming down the stairs. As she entered the kitchen he saw to his horror that she'd obviously been crying and was still in something of an emotional state.

"What the Hell is going on Mum? What have you said? What have you done? Do I need to go up to Molly?"

Ruth could see the panic in Charles's eyes. She hadn't meant or wanted to tell him, didn't think it was necessary, but in the circumstances thought she had to now.

"Nothing to worry you Charles. I just wanted to thank her for what she did in Afghanistan, for you; for us. It just brought it all back to me, that's all, and it upset me."

"Oh,...well... sorry Mum, but you should have told me. What about Molly, is she upset too?"

"She's fine Charles, she was an absolute sweetheart with me".

"You like her then?"

"Darling, she's absolutely lovely, a real keeper. I couldn't be happier for you."

"Thank God, you know you had me shitting myself down here Mum."

"Language Charles, please. How's the starter coming along? "

...

**The Kitchen 20 Royal Crescent 6.45 pm**

Charles' s father had just arrived home. He'd come in, as was his usual practice when walking from the station, through the back door via the garden and back gate. He was so keen to meet his son's new girlfriend that he'd come straight through into the kitchen without taking off his coat and scarf, and was disappointed not to find her (or Charles) there. Instead, he found Ruth and Emma straining vegetables and tipping them into serving dishes.

"Well?...", he said in a rather too loud a voice, "what's she like, the new lady friend?"

"Keep your voice down, for Goodness sake Edward," said his wife, sotto voce.

"Come on, don't keep me in suspense", insisted her husband but now speaking in a much quieter tone and then with a grin, "Not a Rebecca clone I hope!"

Emma chipped in, "Dad, Rebecca is a one-off, we all know that! Just think of Little Miss Frosty, then think the opposite in almost every respect; chatty, affectionate, warm, funny, witty. That's Molly. The only thing they have in common is good looks"

"She's lovely," added Ruth. "So natural and free from any sort of pretentions, unlike the dreaded ice queen."

"Can't wait to meet her then," said Edward as he went back to the utility room to hang up his overcoat and scarf and change into the comfortable Crocs which he always wore around the house.

Unknown to the participants in this conversation, it's subject was at that very moment making her way down the two flights of stairs from her room, taking great care as she always did on strange staircases when in heels. She would have been gratified to hear them talk about her in such glowing terms but all she heard clearly were the last few words.

As she walked down the hall towards the kitchen door she'd heard Ruth say, "...unlike the dreaded ice queen", then an unknown man's voice, "Can't wait to meet her then". This, she reasoned, must be Charles's father back from London.

It immediately struck her that it was Molly Dawes they were talking about! She stood still in silence, wondering what they had been saying. A momentary panic, then rational thought took over. What she could glean from those snippets was that they seemed to prefer her to Rebecca (who was presumably the "ice queen") and that Mr James was keen to make her acquaintance because of what he'd heard (all good news!). Obviously Charles was not in the kitchen or they would not have been talking about her. So the bottom line was she'd have to brave up and interact with the family by herself. She walked the short distance to the kitchen door, this time making as much noise as she could, not difficult in those shoes, on those hard floor tiles. She also coughed a couple of times, just for good measure, in case they started talking about her again. It had the desired effect; they heard her coming and turned to greet her as she entered the kitchen. Emma was now sitting at the table, Ruth standing by the cooker and Mr James was nowhere to be seen.

"Hello Molly. Suitably refreshed?" said Emma with a welcoming smile.

"I'm fine now thank you", said Molly. "I 'ad a lovely, long shower and then read my book for a little while. Do you know Pride and Prejudice?

"One of my favourite books," said Emma.

"I've got to the bit where Lizzy Bennet is on 'er 'olidays up North and has just dropped by to 'ave a sneaky look round Mr Darcy's posh 'ouse. She's well impressed. Bit like me coming 'ere really." Emma and Ruth both laughed. "Do you know where **my** Mr Darcy is?," she added.

"He's been down here for the last three quarters of an hour but, currently, he's through in the dining room laying out the starters," said his mother. "And yes I suppose he is a bit of a Mr Darcy...but without the obscene wealth!"

"Shall I go and 'elp 'im?" Molly said, needlessly anxious for his support.

"No need, sweetheart, he'll be back in a minute"

At that moment, Charles's father came back in from the utility room, incongruously dressed in a £500 Savile Row suit and a pair of red Crocs. Molly was quite taken aback by the strange sight but tried not to let it show. "Oh, hello, you must be Molly," he said with a huge welcoming smile on his face. He walked over and kissed her on the cheek. "Lovely to meet you. Now, you **must** call me Edward".

Molly sat down at the kitchen table trying to see some resemblance between father and son but not really succeeding. There was no apparent likeness. Both were good looking men (for their respective ages) but in different ways. Charles's father was tall and slim like the rest of the family but had a more angular face, with sharper features than his son and daughter. His hair was darker than Charles's, almost black, and was thinning slightly, only to be expected really, as he was now over sixty. He looked very distinguished...apart from the Crocs, she thought.

"Would you like a drink Molly?" he said, "we're all about to have Gee and Tees. Apparently dinner's in five minutes." Molly said she would.

Ruth handed her a tall tumbler, ice floating on top and clinking against the glass, "Are you looking forward to meeting Sam, Molly?" she asked wiping her hands on her apron. "Rebecca is bringing him here first thing Saturday."

"I am, but to be honest, I'm bricking it a bit. I so want to 'it it off with 'im. Just 'ope it all goes well"

"It'll be fine Molly. He's such a sweetie, although he'd be mortified if he heard me say that. Just be yourself. He'll love you."

Molly heard footsteps in the hall. At last Charles came into the kitchen. He was wearing the same navy blazer and pale blue shirt he'd worn on their first date. He walked over to her and kissed her lightly on the lips. "You look beautiful", he said. What with his clothes and the greeting it was something of a deja-vu moment for Molly, so there was only one reply she could make, "you don't look too shabby yourself!" A knowing smile passed between them.

Ruth walked round the table with a slice of lime to put in Molly's gin and tonic. "I'm afraid we'll have to leave you and Charles to your own devices this evening. After dinner, Ems, Edward and I are walking down to the Odeon to catch the late showing of "Interstellar" in 3D and IMAX. Its not in IMAX after today so its our last chance and it's so convenient having a cinema complex just five minutes walk away. Charles says you can't stand science fiction otherwise we'd have asked you two as well."

Molly cast a knowing look at Charles. She loved sci-fi movies and Charles knew that very well. How much this had been Charles's devious work and how much collution from the family she didn't know but in the end it didn't really matter. The result was going to be an evening alone in the house with Charles. Excellent use of his organisational and leadership skills to deliver the perfect solution to their problem.

_Sneaky devil!_ she thought to herself.

...

"Dinner is served," announced Ruth. They all walked from the kitchen, down the hall and into the dining room. Mrs James led the way carrying a large steaming Le Creuset casserole, Emma, Molly and Charles each had a serving dish of vegetables and Mr James at the rear carried an open bottle of Shiraz in one hand and a chilled bottle of Cloudy Bay in the other.

The dining room looked stunning. The room lights were dimmed and much of the illumination came from a blazing log fire. There were several candles in candlesticks on the table, their flickering light reflecting in the highly polished wood of the table, on the silver of the cutlery and sparkling on the diamond cut wine and water glasses. At each of the five place settings there was a plate with a fan of melon, thin slices of orange Cantaloupe interlaced with equally thin slices of green Galia. Beside the melon on each plate was a pool of bright red raspberry couli and several whole raspberries, all artistically arranged. Not for the first time, Molly compared the way things were done here to the way she was more used to back home and decided she liked it very much.

"We can thank Charles for the arty starter", said his mother, "don't expect this every night Molly. It'll be fish 'n chips tomorrow".

"Well, that's alright" Molly replied, "we can always get Charles to arrange everybody's chips in pretty fan shaped patterns!"

Charles's stood behind Molly holding her chair.

"I suppose you'll want a bleedin' tip Babe," she said out of the corner of her mouth.

As he pushed the chair in behind her, he leant forward and whispered very quietly but rather salaciously in her ear , "You can deal with my tip when they've gone out... Babe!".

...

**I was going to make the next Part M rated (only just) but have since found out that one of my grown-up daughters reads our girl FF. So you may have to use your imaginations. As we know children assume that their parents neither participate in, or have knowledge of, anything of that sort!**

**Now a question that concerns me. Feedback required. We are on Part 7 and still not past the first night of a five day stay. At this rate there will be 35 chapters and I think everybody would turn off! The interesting bits will be when Rebecca, Sam and an, undefined at the moment, James relative enter the story. Wondering whether I speed up or skip to the entry of the villainess or what? R&amp;R or PM please.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N This is a long chapter which incorporates a slightly cut down version of the shortie "second thoughts". I'm not cheating, it was always going to be a part of the main story. Hope the integration is seamless.**

**I love the Rebecca character. She's Cruella Deville meets Made in Chelsea! **

**Now as there seems to be some confusion, let me be explicit. Please review if you are happy with things and want to give me moral support. I also welcome constructive criticism, it makes me a better writer. But please PM me for that. It's only polite.**

og og og

**Return to Afghan (via Bath) **

**Part 8 **

**20 Royal Crescent Saturday 7.00am **

Molly was in that pleasant transitional state between deep sleep and waking up, where the brain can drift enticingly in any direction. Despite the pitch black of the room she was still aware of Charles lying close beside her; the sound of his breathing, the now faint trace of aftershave, the radiated warmth of his body and the back of his hand which was gently resting against her bare hip.

She let her mind float back to the evening she arrived. The first family dinner with the James's had been a great success. The food was delicious and they'd chatted all through the meal. The amazing thing was that the conversation had all been so interesting, that at no time was she bored or did she feel she wasn't part of it. At home, if they spoke at all at meal-times, it would be in competition with the TV, and usually be about football if her Dad was speaking or the last episode of Eastenders if her Mum could get a word in. Over Ruth's chicken and leek casserole they'd talked about a huge range of issues; the implications of Army downsizing, Ruth's experiences as Deputy Head at the Royal High School, snooping laws, what was going on in Bath and Jane Austen, a subject on which Molly now felt she could make an informed contribution. It was clear to her that she had been completely accepted by the family. More than accepted, she felt she was actually now an honorary "James". In the short time she'd been there she was growing to love them all and they clearly felt the same about her.

That evening, after the family had gone to see their movie at the Bath Odeon, she and Charles had gone upstairs to her room with hardly a word being spoken. Truth to tell they were both nervous. They had made love before, after their first date, but it had not been a satisfying experience for either of them. Inevitably this was on both of their minds. Charles had been in considerable pain back then, although he'd tried hard not to show it. Molly could tell though, and was only too aware that he'd not long had a serious operation on his stomach. There would still be a large number of internal sutures in his abdomen and she didn't want to do anything to risk overstraining them. Pain for one partner and worry for the other. All in all not ideal conditions for the first steps in their physical relationship.

But now he was almost fully recovered. He had told her so and she could also tell, as a medical professional, just from observation. They were still learning about each others' bodies but Charles was an experienced and unselfish lover unlike any partners she had had in the past. This time it was everything she had hoped for. She had meant to insist that he went back to his own room before the family returned but in the end he stayed all night and she was happy with that now. Her obvious acceptance into the family, indeed the warmth she was now feeling from the James's, meant she was no longer worried about their perceptions.

Yesterday had been a wonderful day but it had gone so quickly. They'd spent the morning in Bath doing the tourist trail, diving into the odd shop for items Molly had forgotten to bring from London. After lunch at Pret a Manger in the city centre, they'd walked hand in hand back to the house and got two bikes out of the garage. Charles had his own and Molly borrowed Emma's, but only after Charles, with a few sarcastic comments, had adjusted the saddle height down as far as it would go! Molly's reply was suitably rude! Then it was down to the canal to cycle to Bradford-on- Avon along the towpath. It was almost 10 miles and Molly hadn't been very keen when Charles first suggested it. Her exact words were "Sounds shit". But once they were a few minutes into the ride she had to admit it was magical. They saw nobody at all the whole way and heard no sounds except the rustling of the wind in the bare branches, the murmur and rippling of the water as it moved slowly in the canal and the crunch of the bike tyres on the towpath gravel. It was chilly but the sun was shining brightly giving the Winter landscape a beauty of its own.

They found a cosy teashop in Bradford and then set off back the way they had come, arriving at The Royal Crescent with rosy complexions just as it was getting dark. As promised the dinner that night had been fish and chips, but eaten, once again, in the beautiful dining room, off plates, and accompanied by a sharp, crisp Chardonnay. Not off Styrene trays wrapped in newspaper with a mug of tea, which was what Molly was more used to.

The morning light was now starting to seep into the room and she was starting to wake up. The reality of the day ahead could not be ignored any more. The meeting with the principal family members could not have gone better but now was the most important and daunting meeting of the trip. Sam. Sam was such an important part of Charles's life and would be for the foreseeable future. If Sam took a dislike to her, for whatever reason, it would put an inevitable strain on their relationship.

Charles's hand was now on top of her bare thigh and she wondered if he was sneakily moving it there while pretending to be asleep. She looked at him in the dim light that was now permeating the room. No, he did actually appear to be asleep. She'd maligned him (and was slightly disappointed)! She gently lifted the hand up and slid out of bed gently lowering it to the sheets. Then off to shower wrapped in an oversized dressing gown which Emma had lent her.

**16 Somerset Lane, Bath, Saturday 8.10am **

"Sam. I told you. Only three toys. And they have to fit in your rucksack as well."

"Oooh Mum, please, five, they're a set. I need them all. And two books. And two jigsaws. They're not toys so they don't count."

Rebecca opened the front door of the house. "OK, OK, come on or we'll be late, and Daddy's taking you out somewhere special today."

"Where's he taking me, Mum, do you know? And its 'Dad' not 'Daddy' Mum, I'm not a toddler you know."

"Come on, get in the car you, and don't make a noise, we don't want to wake Rob up."

Rebecca opened the rear door of Rob's gleaming black BMW X5 and threw in the holdall packed with Sam's overnight gear. Sam got in, sat on his booster seat and did up his seatbelt, all without being asked.

It was only eight-fifteen in the morning and it was very cold. There was a clear blue sky and the Sun was shining brightly but very low in the sky. It promised to be a lovely, if chilly, day. They set off on what was usually just a ten minute drive to Royal Crescent, but as it was a Saturday there was significant traffic heading into the city for a morning's shopping at the Winter Sales. Sam was playing quietly with a small diecast "monster" truck which he was driving, with appropriate engine noises, up and down his leg and over the armrest beside him. Rebecca's mind was wandering as she drove stop-start through the increasingly heavy traffic.

Had she made the biggest mistake of her life? Yes, she had to admit, she probably had. What the Hell was she thinking! But what could she do about it now though? Rob was OK, very well off and all that, and he was very good with Sam. But in the final analysis he was just the best of the bunch available when she was looking around for somebody to replace the ever-absent Charles in the bedroom. She didn't really love Rob, never had. He already had a paunch and was starting to lose his hair and he was only thirty two. What would he look like in ten or twenty years? She pictured him as she'd got out of bed this morning, lying there snoring with his morning stubble and some drool on the pillow beside his mouth. Yuck!

This made her think about Charles again with his perfectly toned body, finely chiselled features and his thick brown, wavy hair. He always looked amazing at any time, day or night! Why couldn't she have been more enthusiastic when he'd wanted sex. Looking back, she was embarrassed thinking about the number of "headaches" she'd claimed to have had. And why did she do that, for God's sake? Half the women in Bath would jump into bed with Charles at the drop of a hat. He was gorgeous, intelligent, a wonderful lover and, that rarity of rarities, a real gentleman. She admitted to herself that what she had been doing was punishing him for not being and doing what she wanted and, yes, it had seriously backfired on her.

_You were bloody mad!_ she repeated several times to herself in her head. _But, come on, it was HIS fault the marriage went down the pan not mine,_ she reasoned, _never there for me or for Sam. Always itching to get off to his next big adventure. _

Whoever's fault it was, every time she saw Charles nowadays to hand over, or pick up, Sam, she still felt something stir inside. She desperately wanted him to ask her to join them for one of their trips out, to be a little family again, but he never did. To cap it all, he was now giving up the Army, or at the very least, active service, something she'd wanted him to do since they got married. Whatever the reasoning, now, every time she met him for the hand over, she paid special attention to what she wore and took extra care with her make-up.

Her feelings had resurfaced when she'd heard about his injuries, and how life-threatening they were. She was terrified, not just for Sam's sake, possibly losing the father he adored, but because she knew at that moment that she still had feelings for him. Then she'd heard he'd turned a corner and was on the road to recovery. She and Sam, by chance, were staying at the one of the family rooms at the Queen Elizabeth hospital and had been informed at six in the morning that he had come round and was OK to receive visitors. She could remember it as if it was yesterday, getting them both quickly dressed, going down the long corridor with Sam towards his room at the hospital, feeling so happy and looking forward to a tender moment or two with him, perhaps holding his hand. But what happened? She was confronted by a scruffy female squaddie standing by his bed looking tenderly at him! What the Hell was a girl soldier doing at Charles's bedside? How long had she been there? How dare she be there caring for him before Sam and herself!

"This is someone who helped me in Afghanistan, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her", he'd said.

_Yeah, I bet_, she thought, immediately suspicious.

"Don't go on my account," Rebecca had replied, after the soldier had offered to leave, but what she was really thinking was, _yes, get the Hell out of here._

"Good to see you Dawes." Charles said as she'd walked out through the door.

"Ditto" was all the girl had said in reply. It was an innocent enough word but said in a strange way, full of secret meaning. She watched Charles's eyes follow this Dawes woman as she went through the door. The look in his eyes suggested to Rebecca that there might have been something going on, hopefully in the past.

_But if so, what on earth could he have seen in her? _she thought._ A bit of rough while he was away maybe? She sounded as common as muck and didn't look the slightest bit feminine or alluring in all that combat gear. Any port in an Afghan storm I suppose and probably the only woman within 50 miles. Anyway, hopefully she's out of the picture now and won't be back. Good riddance! _

"Mum, are we going to stay with Rob forever?" came a voice from the back seat. The question brought her back to reality with a jolt.

"You like Rob, don't you sweetie?"

"He's OK Mum but he's not like Dad"

_No, he's not,_ she thought ruefully, _for a start he's a total bore in bed!_

"Maybe, we'll see"

The drive continued. Rebecca felt desperate at times. She knew that Charles's mother and father had never really liked her and that Charles would find it difficult to forgive her the string of lovers culminating in Rob. She had no allies in the family apart from one of his aunts with whom she got on well. But at the back of her mind was a hope, however faint , that he might still have some residual feelings for her and that these could be rekindled if she tried hard despite his parent's dislike. She was forming a strategy as she drove._ Why not suggest joining them both on the trip today_? _Couldn't do any harm, it will be innocent enough and it might start things going again. I can do charming when it suits me and Sam is definitely the catalyst; our common bond. I can always ring Rob and dream up an excuse._ By the end of the journey she had convinced herself that this was a good strategic move and was resolved to see it through.

og-og-og

Molly came back to her room after her shower thinking carefully about what to wear. She thought a "glamorous soccer mum" look might impress a seven year old boy and so laid out jeans and boots with a pretty deep-blue tunic top. As she was finishing towel-drying her hair, Charles was stirring and she went over to stand beside him. His arm stretched out from under the duvet and snaked through the opening in the dressing gown and around the back of her legs pulling her close to the bed.

"Morning Gorgeous".

"Morning Babe", she replied.

His hand started to wander upwards, fingers gently caressing the inside of her thigh. "Oi, no time for any of that", said Molly, trying hard to ignore the sensations it was creating, "you 'ave to get up pronto. Sam will be 'ere in thirty minutes."

"Spoilsport", he said with a mock crestfallen expression on his face.

Molly got dressed with a great deal of care and went downstairs to be warmly greeted by Ruth and Edward. She took charge of the coffee making and was joined in the kitchen ten minutes later by Charles. He kissed her gently on the lips, said "hello again you" and they all sat down to breakfast.

og-og-og

The BMW drew up at the back of 20 Royal Crescent, Sam undid his seatbelt and got out. He ran over to the intercom which he could just about reach on tiptoe and pressed the button looking up towards the small camera and screen.

"Not today thank you", came Ruth's voice over the intercom, saying what she said every single time Sam pressed the button.

"Ooh Grandma, let me in", said Sam, exasperated by his grandmother's lack of originality.

"OK just this once". The lock buzzed and clicked, Sam pushed open the back gate and ran into the garden, closely followed by Rebecca carrying the bulging, but very light, holdall in one hand and Sam's rucksack in the other. Sam ran on ahead, down the two hundred feet of the garden and straight through the back door which Ruth had opened and left ajar.

**Kitchen, 20 Royal Crescent, 8.30am**

Molly and Charles had just finished their leisurely breakfast when the intercom buzzed. Ruth and Edward were tidying up.

"They're here", Charles said to nobody in particular, looking towards the tiny screen beside the utility room door which had just lit up. On the screen was the unmistakeable face of Sam peculiarly distorted by the fish-eye lens of the security camera. Ruth wandered over and pressed the intercom button.

"Not today thank you", she said.

They could hear an impatient Sam at the other end.

"Mum, why do you say that every time?" said Charles.

"Tradition" said his mother.

After more entreaties from the seven year old, Ruth pressed the enter button and his face disappeared from the screen. No more than a minute after that, a small boy came rocketing into the kitchen heading straight for his father with a cursory hello to everybody else. Charles caught him, gave him a hug and hoisted him into the air. "Hi Scamp". Molly watched them from the other side of the table. It was lovely to see what a great relationship they had. And Sam obviously idolised his Dad. She smiled at them and waited to be introduced.

"Say hello to Molly, Sam, do you remember, she was there when you visited me in Birmingham?"

"I remember. Dad called you Dawes at the hospital. You were funny"

" 'ello Sam, you can call me Molly. That OK?"

Sam smiled and nodded before his attention went back to his Dad.

By the time Rebecca arrived at the kitchen door at her more sedate pace, Edward and Ruth had also said their hellos to Sam, who was now being held aloft by his Dad at the far end of the kitchen, pretending to be Superman.

"Hello Ruth, good morning Edward,...Charles" she said in her nicest, friendliest tone.

Rebecca noticed an unknown person seated at the table, with her back towards her, watching Charles and Sam playing together. All she could see of this person was a mass of lustrous cheshnut hair like something out of a shampoo ad. Maybe it was one of Charles's cousins she'd heard about but never met, or a friend of Emma's staying over? The person with the chestnut hair got up and turned to greet her. She was a very beautiful young woman, the blue top and jeans revealing a stunning figure. She had remarkable green eyes and looked like a glamorous actress or somebody from a fashion magazine. For a few seconds Rebecca did not recognise her. Not surprising really, as at their previous encounter this person had been in army combat gear, with no makeup, and had had thirty six hours with little or no sleep making those eyes somewhat bloodshot! Then Rebecca suddenly realised who it was.

The blood drained from her face. She felt quite faint. The bottom fell out of her world and all her devious plans were in tatters. Almost immediately, jealousy and anger began to take over.

Charles spoke as he lowered Sam to the floor.

" Rebecca, I think you've already met Molly."

"Pleased to meet you Rebecca", said Molly holding out her hand.

Molly felt a pair of ice blue, humourless eyes bore into her and no hand was offered in response. The incivility was not lost on anybody; Ruth and Edward were appalled, Charles was furious.

"What is **she** doing here Charles? I want a word, in private...now."

...

**A/N My wife thinks a) this chapter is too long and b) Rebecca would not be as rude as this. I'm not so sure. **


	9. Chapter 9

**AN. Sorry for the delay. I know I take a long time between chapters at the best of times. Been away.**

**Back to Afghan (via Bath) Part 9**

**The kitchen, 20 Royal Crescent, 8.35am**

Everybody in the kitchen was motionless, so perfectly still that the scene resembled that of a waxwork tableau in Madame Tussaud's. Sam was standing by the table with his father's arm protectively around his shoulder. He clearly sensed the unpleasant atmosphere but couldn't understand why his mother was so angry. Molly still had a look of shock on her face and was wondering what response, if any, she should make to the snub. She was a guest here in the house and anxious to become friends with Sam. Having a shouting match, or worse, with his mother, would not be a good idea whatever the provocation! Mr and Mrs James were looking at each other in disbelief. The only person in motion had been Rebecca who had marched into the utility room, turned, and was now holding the door open, presumably waiting for Charles to follow her.

Charles felt in something of a dilemma. He did not wish to appear at his ex-wife's beck and call but wanted to read the riot act to her in no uncertain terms. _What a ghastly woman. Whatever did I see in her? And how am I going to handle this without upsetting Sam? _he thought to himself. But in the end, no action was required on his part. Somebody else took the matter in hand.

"No, **I **want a word with **you** Rebecca" said his mother. As she walked towards the utility room, she continued speaking, "Charles, why don't you and Molly take Sam up to his room, sort out his things and help him decide what toys he wants to bring downstairs to play with".

With this, she marched up to Rebecca, took hold of her wrist and wrenched her hand off the door handle, pulling her inside the utility room like a naughty child and closing the door. Ruth was very fit and very strong, and Rebecca could only put up token resistance.

og og og

When Ruth shut the door to the utility room behind her, it was as if a fairy godmother had waved her wand over a bewitched kitchen. Everybody started to move, freed from the tension that Rebecca had created. Mr James Snr. immediately made his excuses and headed for his study with a cup of coffee in his hand. Sam looked up at his father seeking explanation and reassurance.

"What's happening Dad? Why is Mum so cross?" he asked.

"I don't know Sam but Grandma will sort things out, don't worry", was the reply. Charles was very conscious that his mother, with all her teaching experience of dealing with stroppy teenage girls, was ideally placed to do just that. Molly's expertise in looking after her many siblings now clicked in. She knew distraction was the key in a situation like this.

" 'ey mate, I've been wanting somebody to show me all those toys that are up in that room of yours ever since I got 'ere. Shall we take your stuff up and 'ave a butcher's?"

"OK Molly" came the enthusiastic reply. Sam took Molly's hand and pulled her out of the kitchen towards the stairs. "What's a butcher's Molly?" he asked.

Charles followed with the holdall and rucksack."Yes Molly, perhaps you need to translate for all of us!"

As they walked down the hall towards the stairs, Edward, now settled in his study, could hear Molly say, "You know...Butcher's Hook, "look".

"Oh", said Sam, "and these are 'apples and pears' aren't they? I've heard that one".

"You're learning fast," said his Cockney tutor.

og og og

"Ooow, there was no need for that Ruth. And I want to speak to Charles, this has nothing to do with you" said Rebecca rubbing a red mark on her wrist.

"Well perhaps you've forgotten where you are, Rebecca. You can speak to **me** as you've been extremely rude to one of **my **guests in **my** house."

"I don't care whose house I'm in, I am not having that dreadful woman near my son."

"Why on Earth would you say something like that?"

"Because he'll end up swearing like a trooper and talking like a Cockney."

"You and I both know that this has nothing to do with the way she talks or her accent, Rebecca. He hears far worse at school. It's really about you, your regrets and your jealousy, nothing less."

"I don't know what you're talking about. That's absolutely ridiculous", Rebecca replied folding her arms defensively.

"Is it? Do you think we're blind Rebecca," said Ruth, "we've both noticed how you've been starting to flirt with Charles again these last few weeks. You can't bear the thought of him moving on and finding happiness with somebody else, and before you do."

"That's rubbish, I am so happy with Rob and we're very much in love", she said, knowing full well it was a lie even as she spoke.

"If that **is** the case then I cannot see the problem. Can I remind you that you are divorced from Charles. You have absolutely no say in who he meets or who he can or can't have a relationship with."

"No I don't. But I **do** have influence over who my son comes into contact with. If necessary I could stop Sam seeing his father again. I'd be within my rights."

"Not without a court order you can't and I don't think any court in the land would deny access rights because of contact with a cockney accent! Rebecca, this is ridiculous. You obviously love Sam. You wouldn't hurt him for the world and you know he idolises his father. And for your information, Rebecca, Molly is a lovely girl who Edward and I would be proud to welcome into this family one day. She is going to Afghanistan, into a dangerous war zone, on Monday, risking her life for three months; we should all be supporting her not stressing her out."

og og og

Sam's room was on the same floor as Molly's and Charles's rooms. Ruth had furnished it in a style befitting a boy of his age and Edward had insisted that Thomas the Tank Engine be the specific theme when Sam was as young as 6 months old! So curtains, duvet cover, even the wallpaper, were dedicated to the blue engine. Doubtless, demands for redecoration into a superhero theme would be coming from Sam before too long!

Molly got down on her knees, sitting back on her heels, so she was at his level. "So what's your favourite Sam?" she said, pointing to several boxes of toys neatly laid out side by side in the corner of the room. "What shall we take down to the lounge?"

"Grandad bought loads of Brio for me soon after I was born. He got it on Ebay and there's heaps of it. That's my favourite. I can play with it **all** up here but I'm only allowed to take one box-full downstairs"

"OK then mate, let's sort out what track and trains you want to take down and put it all into one of them boxes, the biggest one we can find!". She winked at him and Sam attempted to wink back, with some difficulty.

Molly's inherent charm and skills with children were already working on Sam!

"Where are we going today Molly, what's the surprise?" Sam asked.

"Dunno mate, but I bet its somewhere exciting," she looked round quizzically at Charles who was standing in the doorway smiling at the pair of them; so pleased that they were getting on famously together.

"Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?" he said, to Sam's obvious disappointment.

og og og

Ruth could feel the tide turning. Rebecca was gradually calming down. It had been a shock; the realisation that the woman who she thought had been nothing more than a fling, was actually very much IN the picture and a threat to any plans she had for reconciliation. But despite her faults, and she had many, Rebecca was a conscientious mother and Sam was the only person in the world she really loved. She knew that changing Charles's access rights was an empty threat. Even if she could persuade a court to revoke them, which in the cold light of day seemed unlikely, Sam would be devastated and would never forgive her when he became old enough to know the facts.

Ruth continued while she could sense Rebecca was on the back foot, "Have you any idea what you owe Molly? Without her incredible bravery Sam would not have a father and you wouldn't have anybody to be jealous about. Think about that the next time you look down your nose at her."

Rebecca said nothing.

The realisation that for the moment at least she would have to accept how things were, was gradually dawning. Ruth had never ever seen Rebecca emotional in all the years she had known her but there was a definite trace of tears in those ice cold, pale blue eyes. For one fleeting moment she had a notion to put her arm around her to offer some comfort but seven years of frosty relations precluded any such demonstrations of tenderness.

In any case the emotion didn't last long. This new intelligence gave her fresh hope and the tears disappeared as quickly as they had come. This Molly woman would be out of the picture for three months, going into a dangerous environment where **anything** could happen to her. So why not be nice to her just for today and give herself some Brownie points with Charles. Next week she wouldn't be here and the coast would be clear. Rebecca, blinkered to reality like so many self-centred people, couldn't see that her case was hopeless and that her recent behaviour had made it even more so.

Ruth knew it was time to change tack; she was on the home straight! "Sorry about your wrist, Rebecca, I didn't mean to hurt you. Why don't we go and find them and you can say hello to Molly and dispel Sam's worries. I am sure he doesn't like seeing you upset."

Ruth had spent a great deal of time dealing with adolescent tantrums in her professional life. One of her ex-colleagues once told her she was the best "Teen Whisperer" he had ever met! Rebecca might have been twenty nine but the same principles applied; she didn't stand a chance!

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The long postponed handshake eventually took place up in Sam's room. Rebecca peered around the door and came in. Molly stood up. "Molly... I've heard a great deal about you ." said Rebecca, extending a limp hand, " Good luck in Afghanistan". Molly looked straight into Rebecca's eyes and was reminded of another occasion, which seemed an age ago, when she was interrogating Bashira's brother. As then, the eyes looking back at her were full of disdain and totally without warmth. She guessed (correctly) that Rebecca was going through the motions after a dressing down from Ruth so she said only "Thanks" in reply.

Rebecca turned towards her son and smiled, "Goodbye Sam, be good, see you tomorrow after dinner." Sam came over and hugged her, "Bye Mum".

She went over and kissed her ex husband on the cheek giving **him** a kilowatt smile, " 'Bye Charles, see you soon," she beamed.

As she left the room Charles shook his head in disbelief. Rebecca would have to be dealt with but that was for another day. For now he was anxious to move on to what he hoped would be a wonderful (Rebecca free) day with the people he loved.

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**AN Rebecca's "apology". Tricky one to get right that. Debated whether she would apologise properly but decided that would be out of character!**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN Sorry its been so long. Been very busy. To be honest, I feel a bit demoralised by the series 2 announcement with Molly effectively now out of the story. Where does that leave Molly/Charles ff I wonder? Anyway, I shall persevere for now!**

**Back to Afghan (via Bath) Part 10**

_**What i did at the weekend, by Samuel James, Class 2, Monday **_

_I live with my mum and a man called Rob. He is not my dad though. My real dad lives with my granma and grandad. Almost every weekend i go and stay with him. I love being with my dad. On saturday morning Mum drove me to Dads and i met his friend Molly. I don't think my mum likes her very much. She says she is common and a bad inflewance but i am not sure what that means. Molly is a soljer like my dad and saved him when he was hurt. She is very brave and won a medal. She is ever so pretty and talks in a funny way which makes me laugh. _

_In the morning granma drove us all to Bristol to see a very old ship called the Great Brittain. It was very big and Grandad said it was the first steam ship to take people to America. Then we had lunch at Pizza Hut. Then we drove up the Motorway to the old steam railway that goes to Cheltenham. We walked from the carpark and i held Mollys hand. She is very pretty and smells nice. Dad kisses her when he thinks i am not looking. Sometimes he kisses her on the lips. Miss Taylor says that means he likes her alot._

_We went on the old steam train all the way to Cheltenham and had tea and i had a chelsy bun. On the way back Dad had a supprise for me. His friend was the driver of the steam engine and let Molly dad and i travel on the engine all the way back. It was very noisy and hot in the engine. the driver said Don't touch anything and keep out of the way of the fireman please so he can shovel the coal. When we arrived back where we started from, I asked what does this do and put my hand on a shiny brass lever. The driver shouted no and made me jump and I pulled my hand away. Molly grabbed my arm and pushed my hand in a bukket of water which was behind us. I told her it was alright but she looked at her watch and said I must keep it in the water for ten minutes. She is an army nurse. It started to hurt but i think thats because the water was so cold and I cried a little bit. Dad was in a flap._

_When I took my hand out of the water there was a red mark on two of my fingers and it was a bit saw, but OK. Molly bort me a new Brio engine in the shop._

_Then we went back to granmas. On the way home I had a cuddle with Molly in the back of the car. She is very soft and warm and she smells lovely, like nice soap. I like her very much. When we got home, Aunty Emma looked at my fingers and said that they were fine. She is a doctor. She said Molly did the right thing with the water. _

_After dinner Me and Molly made a track from Brio for the new engine. It went all the way down the lounge. we pretended it went from paddington to Bristol and stopped at Bath. Molly is cool._

_I had a lovely day. I would like Molly to marry my dad so I could see her alot. _

_The End_

**Toddington, Gloucestershire, Saturday 3.00pm**

It was Molly's military training as well as her medical expertise that had saved Sam from a potentially bad injury. As soon as she got into the engine cab she had automatically and sub-consciously done a risk assessment of her surroundings. This was what she was trained to do in every hostile environment. The danger in this case was obvious. There were very hot, scalding surfaces everywhere. She looked immediately for a cold water source in case of emergencies. A large bucket was tucked into one corner at the back of the locomotive cab.

They were just arriving at Toddington when the accident happened and she reacted immediately. In a split second she had put Sam's hand straight into the cold water and insisted he kept it there for the recommended 10 minutes despite his protestations.

Charles had kept saying "Oh my God, Oh my God" which didn't help much, so Molly had to spend time reassuring the parent as well as the patient, "Don't worry, we caught it real quick, it'll be fine."

After checking her watch, Molly pulled his hand out of the water and examined it closely. She knew the recommendations for child burns very well. "We should really take him to A&amp;E for a check up but Emma'll be home now and can take a look when we get back. It don't look too bad at all actually", she said, smiling at Sam.

They found Edward and Ruth waiting on the platform. Sam seemed none the worse for wear and chose a new Brio engine in the station shop before they set off for home. He spent the journey cuddled up with Molly on the back seat, telling everybody in the car how steam engines worked, how to drive them, and how important it was to use a thick cloth for the hot controls! It was Charles who eventually voiced the concern which had occurred to all of them in turn.

"What the Hell is Rebecca going to say!?"

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**20 Royal Crescent, Saturday 7.30pm**

Charles peered through the door of the lounge looking at the beautiful young woman in jeans and a blue top, and the young boy in black jeans and a grey pullover, crawling around on the floor playing with a Brio trainset. Molly was on her hands and knees facing away from the door and it made him, for a few moments, think inappropriate and lascivious thoughts which had nothing to do with playing trains. But he quickly purged those thoughts from his mind. It didn't seem right somehow with his seven year old son so close by!

The Brio tracks stretched from one end of the room to the other, a not inconsiderable distance. Molly had suggested building the track so Sam could try out his new engine and they had set about it together straight after dinner. Now the trains were running, Molly in control of a train from one end and Sam pushing his new acquisition from the other. She sensed Charles's presence and turned to look at him in the doorway. They smiled at each other.

He didn't want to be "previous", as Molly would say, but as he looked at her and watched the interaction between her and his young son, he knew in his heart, that "previous" or not, Molly was "the one", the person he was meant to be with for the rest of his life. He'd never been so sure of anything. But he had no idea if she felt the same. She had told him she loved him but he still wondered if she saw those feelings lasting as long as he knew **his **would. He knew that these few days with her were precious; that despite the short amount of time left with her, he must let their relationship develop naturally and not "force" things with the risk of scaring her away.

He looked at his son. Sam was having a wonderful time. It was rare for an adult to play with him like this, not even his Dad, and he loved it.

"I really like playing with you, Molly, you're cool", he shouted from one end of the room to the other.

"You're alright yourself mate", Molly shouted back.

Charles could resist no longer and walked into the room. "You two having fun?"

Sam took his father's hand and pulled him towards the train set. "Look Dad, I'm at Paddington and Molly's coming from Bristol. The trains pass at Bath. See."

"Fantastic".

Charles walked over to Molly and knelt beside her next to the Brio representation of Bristol Station. She sat back on her heels so he could put his arm around her shoulder. "Thanks for looking after Sam and thanks for being so wonderful" he said quietly. He kissed her on the cheek inhaling that Molly "scent" he'd come to love so much.

"Hey Scamp, we have something to give Molly before you go up for your bath, haven't we?"

"Oh yes", said Sam.

"You go and get them then, Grandma knows where they are". Sam ran off leaving the two of them alone in the room..

"He's such a lovely kid, Charles. He's a credit to you and, dare I say it, Rebecca."

"I know, and he seems to be very taken with you. I couldn't be happier." he kissed her again, this time on the lips."How is his hand?"

"Its fine, honestly", said Molly, "Emma says there's no need to do anything else. She doesn't think it will even blister. Perhaps Rebecca won't notice", she said with a smile.

"Fat chance", said Charles.

Sam ran back in with two parcels and handed them to Molly with words carefully rehearsed over two telephone calls with his Dad.

"These are for you when you...go to...Afghan...istan, Molly. ...Think of me and Dad...sorry, Dad and I...when you use them.". Then he ad-libbed, "This pretty one's from Dad, and this one's from me. Sorry about the wrapping on my one. I'll miss you Molly. Do you really haveto go?".

He handed them to Molly and gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek.

Molly's eyes uncharacteristically filled with tears at the little speech."Thats so sweet", she said, "thank you very much. I **do** have to go but I'll be back before you know it. Don't worry."

The iPad and its case were soon unwrapped and Molly was suitably delighted.

"Now you've got no excuse not to Skype us", said Charles.

"That's assuming they still got wifi at Bastion eh?"

Ruth appeared at the door, "Your bath's ready Sam".

At that moment the phone rang and Charles picked up the lounge cordless."Hello..."

There was a momentary silence in the room.

"Oh, hello Rebecca".

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**AN Apologies if this chapter is a bit messy. Sam's "story" for school was a device to describe what they did on his day out without laborious, and potentially boring, detail but it was difficult to then weave a narrative around it. It was also useful to get over Sam's growing love of Molly which I am sure would have happened were we going to have the Series 2 we should have had!**

**Rebecca is of course phoning to check that everything is OK! What are they going to tell her?!**


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